


Heading Towards Home

by anarchycox



Series: The Beast and the Bard [4]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Banter, Established Relationship, Found Family, M/M, Meeting the Parents, POV Jaskier | Dandelion, Reunion, Sex, minor bloody play, quasi wedding night, ugly geralt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:34:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24065905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchycox/pseuds/anarchycox
Summary: When Geralt went to Cintra to help Ciri, he had put his wolf medallion around Jaskier's neck and told his bard to go home to Kaer Morhen to a place Jaskier hasn't actually been before. Fine, just fine, not a problem at all. Except of course it is Jaskier, so there is a problem or two.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: The Beast and the Bard [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1699132
Comments: 104
Kudos: 972





	Heading Towards Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheJaskiestOfThemAll](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheJaskiestOfThemAll/gifts).



> This is a gift fic for the amazing and talented clarkeisinlovewithbellamy who did just the most amazing fan art of our beloved monster ugly geralt. you can find the amazing art here: https://jask-jaskier-jaskiest.tumblr.com/post/616696521500557312/this-was-supposed-to-be-finished-in-a-few-days-but give them epic love for this incredible work.

“Oh travel to Kaer Morhen, you’ll be safe there!” Jaskier muttered to himself. “Didn’t bother mentioning that the journey might fucking kill me.” He was tired of walking. Yes he walked all the time, everywhere, but he was getting a bit older. Prime of life clearly, and he was absolutely only 33…no that was pushing it a bit. 37, he could still pass for late thirties. And sometimes Geralt let him ride Roach. Yes he had hitched on that farm cart for a bit, but it wasn’t the same as Roach.

Also now three weeks and he hadn’t ridden Geralt and he was getting a little squirrelly. They had spent a few winters apart, but not many, only when Geralt said he had to go to the keep lest they think he was dead. Which was ridiculous. Because if the ugly bastard did something as fucking stupid as dying, Jaskier would have written a song that made the whole world weep at the loss of its beloved monster and they would know he was passed.

Well, the world rather still distrusted Geralt, couldn’t really get past the face, but Jaskier would have wept singing it. And he could weep very loudly. He also needed to not think those thoughts. Geralt was just fine. Because he was a monster, and those were very hard to kill. Jaskier clutched the medallion around his neck and kept putting his feet one in front of the other. He could see village lights in the distance and he wanted a bed for the night dammit. Coin was running low, but hell he’d sleep on potatoes in the kitchen at this point. He was rubbish at starting fires. 

It was full dark by the time he made it to the tavern and inn. He breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped inside and the place was fairly full. There was coin to be made. He went up to the bar and smiled, “Looks like the bar could use some livening up, happy customers spend more coin.”

“And what do we have to be happy about?” the barkeep asked.

“Many things to be sure. I have some coin, and if I get people drinking more, I trust we can come to an arrangement about a room?”

“Well, depends how much they drink. Witcher here, and he has everyone spooked. Hate those bastards, always show up here on their way home.” 

“My songs are more distracting than a witcher,” Jaskier swore and his eyes quickly scanned the room. He knew it wasn’t his witcher, it couldn’t be. He had been going to Cintra and Jaskier was on a straight path along the map that Geralt had given him, but for a moment he hoped. His eyes went to a corner that had a view of all the windows and doors but had protection at the person’s back, and sure enough the witcher sat there. “What school of witcher?”

“What do I care, mutants all of them. At least it isn’t the foul one. You know with the fangs.”

Jaskier for a moment debated punching the man, but Geralt had ordered him to behave, to stay safe. “Indeed, we could only be so lucky to have him here,” was all Jaskier said. “Shall I begin?” The barkeep clearly didn’t care and Jaskier began to work. The crowd was slow to warm up but he pulled them in slowly and steadily. He sang about a white wolf, his beloved monster but it was metaphor enough that the hostile crowd didn’t quite realize it was about a witcher. But the man in the corner did. People were drinking more and there was clapping and the barkeep gave him a nod, so it did look like he would be sleeping well tonight. 

Then he had to ruin it by closing with Toss a Coin. The song was a fucking hit, everyone loved it but apparently not this town. He was principled enough though that he finished the song over the growing jeers and boos, and occasional tossed bread. Fuck. He bowed and made sure to pick up a handful of the coins. He saw someone coming, ready to brain him with a mug, and still crouched he spun and swept their feet out from under them. Fuck, it had actually worked. Jaskier grabbed as many of the coins as he could as the shouting rose. 

A window was closer than the door; had been a decade since he had had to do that particular dive. He stood up and a few were coming close. “I wouldn’t beat me up for a song. Especially one that good.”

“It is about that freak, that monster one! Everyone knows that. That witcher should be burned.” There were cries of agreement.

Jaskier smiled. He dropped the coins in the case and carefully put the lute away. He put on the brass knuckles he had in the lining and the small but lethally sharp dagger. “Do you know how many sorceresses I know? Because I don’t, I know so many. This blade is enchanted, imbued with poison. I don’t even have to stab you. Just a simple little knick, and you will die shitting yourself so much it comes out of your mouth. A feeling you are well used to with the shit you just were spewing. Now let me leave in peace.”

“We aren’t scared of no bard.”

“But you are scared of me,” the voice said in the corner. The room went very still. “He and I are leaving, you will let us by.” Jaskier didn’t look behind himself as the witcher approached. “Move lad.”

“Remind me to thank you for calling me a lad,” Jaskier replied.

“So it is you,” was all the man said and they left the bar and quickly began walking.

“Your horse?”

“I walk the Path on foot,” he said. His eyes were witcher yellow, and he honestly looked old. “Hello, Jaskier.”

“Hello,” Jaskier smiled. “Pleasure to meet you. And thank you for saving my life. Geralt was very clear that I wasn’t to get into trouble, but sometimes trouble just wants to be found.”

“Especially when you kick it in the face,” the man pointed out.

“It shouldn’t be so kickable then,” Jaskier replied. “No one seems to be following us.”

“Your blade sounds quite terrifying.”

“Also complete horseshit,” Jaskier grinned, “But people tend to believe me. I am good at selling the lie.”

“How many lies have you sold to Geralt? Lies about how you love him? And find him handsome?”

“Excuse me?” Jaskier glared at him. “I have never lied about that.” He looked at the man. “Thank you for your help, but I will continue along the Path myself. Good night.” Jaskier stalked off and realized in the dark he didn’t actually know which way to go. “Ummm, which way to Kaer Morhen?” He pointed, “It is that way, right?”

The man moved his arm. “That way. My way.”

“Well, fuck.” Traveling with someone was better than the map. “Well, you are a dick, so guessing Lambert?”

The man snorted. “Vesemir.”

“Shit, I’m awful at meet the parents moments.” Jaskier sighed. “Fine, well, let’s go then.” He waited but the man just started walking again. Jaskier kept apace with him, because Jaskier had a dozen perfect skills (he had 3 perfect skills but you have to be confident in yourself) and one of them was keeping apace with witchers. They walked until the moon was high and then settled into a field a bit away from the road. “Fire?”

“Not tonight, not this close to that town.”

“Lovely.” Jaskier went and pissed. Found the bread he had stuffed in his waistband, and well he had eaten far worse. And watched Geralt eat even worse. Actually that raised a few questions. “So…all witchers eat raw organs?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well just, I have another wolf. This will answer all sorts of questions for me. And I have seen him eat…things, just wondering if you all do it.”

“It has happened, but he does it more than most. He body needs what is in their organs sometimes. The extra mutations create a hunger.” He knew Vesemir was watching him. “But I imagine he eats less around you, not upset your delicate sensibilities.”

Jaskier snorted. “Any delicate sensibilities I had were out the window first time I sucked his cock with harpy guts still draped all over him.” He looked up at the sky. “I don’t lie to him.”

“You do every time you pretend to find him attractive.”

“Look you old buzzard, I don’t pretend fuck all - I do find my beloved monster attractive.”

“So you lie and call him handsome, and what close your eyes tight when he is above you?”

“Is that what he has said?”

“The few winters he has come home, he is quiet at first and then where there is teasing he mentions your soft words that make him feel good. Lambert has tried to worm them out of him, but he has said your compliments are for his ears alone. Because he knew his brothers would mock, jeer when he said you called him handsome.”

“I swear on my lute, my hatred for Valdo Marx, and my love of Geralt’s dick, that I have never once in 22 years called him handsome. From when I saw him when I was 18, to when I left him at 37 just a few weeks ago -”

“Your math is wrong there. Aren’t you an educated man?”

“Like I am going to say my proper age,” Jaskier waved a hand. “We ignore pesky details like those. I have many compliments and soft words for him. My beloved monster, my hideous creature. A million things along those lines. He is ugly and I tell him such.”

“So you are cruel.”

“No,” Jaskier said softly, “Never that. Because I love him. And he is beautiful in his heart. He is physically grotesque, but he loves so fucking much, cares more than anyone I have ever seen. And I want to murder all of you for making him think no one would ever see past his size and face, but also thank you because it meant he was waiting for me.” 

“You couldn’t kill us.”

“Yes, I could,” Jaskier said. “There are towns now that welcome Geralt. Because of me and my songs. Sure, he is hated in many places, but not all, not anymore. Because of me. If you thought you were disliked now? I promise you, your worlds would become nightmares if I so wished it. If I put it to song.” Jaskier smiled a bit. “Also five years ago? Geralt and I had a long talk about ways to kill him if something ever went horribly wrong.”

“And could you?”

“I think so,” Jaskier said softly. “Because he asked it of me, and he just about never asks me for anything. Do you know how much training it took to get him to believe that he could just grab me and fuck me pretty much whenever he wanted? He tried so hard to be good and gentle, and I mean that is nice, romance is great, but really when he hauls me off mid song and my pants are already around my -”

“Yes, thank you, good night.”

“Oh, yes, father figure. They don’t like to know their kid's sex lives. Fair. But just figured you’d be happy to know he isn’t all pent up and frustrated these days. Consistent and thorough fucking of my perfect ass has keep him nice and happy. Actually improves his monster killing rate.”

“Do you ever stop talking?”

“No, see you pissed me off, suggesting my love for my horrid Geralt might be fake. So you’d have to fucking gag me or knock me out. You might be considering it. You might be considering it a lot, but you know I’d tell Geralt, and even you are just a little bit scared of him. Makes me stronger than you, doesn’t it? That I do not have a single drop of fear in me in relation to Geralt, and you do. Night night. Just wait until you hear the songs I am going to sing you on the walk home!” Jaskier’s smile was monstrous, vicious. Vesemir was quiet after that and Jaskier went to sleep. He wondered if he’d be abandoned in the night. He had a map, he’d be fine.

He was kicked awake, which felt familiar, Geralt had always kicked him awake the first few years. Jaskier decided that father’s like to know their sons are doing well, and Geralt would never brag about himself. Jaskier would have to do it for him. It just so happened Jaskier bragged best in song. He broke out his greatest Geralt hits, and a few he had written for himself, ones he didn’t share in taverns. Those were more serious, painful. Closer to the truth of the cost of the Path. Geralt liked the honesty of those ones more.

People in taverns never did like the truth.

When he sang those one Vesemir was quiet, didn’t ask him to shut it, or growl or anything. They made their way north and it was almost not horrible. Except once they passed the last village it kind of got shitty. The climb was hard, and there were traps and it was just gross. “Lord, Geralt is going to have to do this with a child. Fuck, can we disarm a few of the traps or something?”

“He would then wondered what had happened, what he would find at the keep,” Vesemir said and moved him. “Careful, spiked pit there.”

“Fun!” Jaskier looked at him. “Really don’t like visitors huh?”

“The last visitors tried to kill us all,” Vesemir pointed out. “You are the first visitor in a long time.”

“Oh.” Jaskier fished Geralt’s medallion out from under his shirt. “So, Geralt giving me this a big deal?” Jaskier paused because Vesemir actually reacted. It was barely there but Jaskier knew how to read witchers, thank you very much. There was a slight mouth drop, eyes widening. “What? Are we now married or something?”

“Not until you fuck in a particular room in the keep.”

Jaskier laughed, and then realized that Vesemir wasn’t laughing. “I mean it is likely we’ll fuck in every room in the keep, but you are serious aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“So this means, what that Geralt and I are betrothed?” Vesemir kept walking and didn’t say anymore and Jaskier looked down at the medallion. Well this was an interesting turn of events. “My monstrous husband. My beloved betrothed. My afflicted affianced, ooh there is much fun to be had here.”

“He must gag you all the time,” Vesemir called back.

“Geralt happens to like how much I talk to him, because I am just about the only person who does,” Jaskier snapped back. “Us dedicated monster fuckers tend to be able to look our monsters in the eye you see.”

“Dedicated monster fucker?” Vesemir had stopped and was staring at him. “What the fuck?”

“Oh, I should tell you about the incubus! That’s a fun story.” He wanted to be just a little cruel, because it was fun to see Vesemir’s reaction. But he didn’t actually share the tale because the last bit of the hike was brutal, even with all the walking he had done with Geralt over the decades. And then he had no breath when he saw the keep. “It is ugly as fuck. It looks like Geralt, or does Geralt look like it? All broken and wrong, and perfect?”

“You really are a mad one.”

“You have no idea.” They went in and he was shown to Geralt’s room. It was as boring a space as he expected. But he lived in it now, which automatically added some pizazz. He checked and there was clearly an unused room across the way. If he was coming with their child surprise, that could work. It needed a good scrub and Jaskier had never been afraid of hard work, and he snorted because he couldn’t even finish that thought to himself. He had run away from being a viscount for fucks sake, and from university. He ran away from everything that was hard, except for Geralt’s cock. When that was hard he definitely didn’t run away.

Traversing the continent after a witcher wasn’t hard work. Facing monsters, destiny, bad tavern meat, none of that was hard work, it was just his life. Well, he would fix it up. But now he had to find food.

A week later Lambert arrived, and said Eskel was not coming home this winter. He was hunkering down in the east somewhere, for some hunt that could only happen in winter. Lambert hated him, but that was because he was a miserable grump. Jaskier had him being nice within two weeks. They prepared the keep as best as two witchers and a bard could. Jaskier was more focused on making a good space for a child than anything else.

And then eventually, Lambert shouted that people were at the gate. Geralt and a child.

Jaskier ran so fast when he turned a corner he slammed into a wall. He bounced off and kept running. There was his monster. He leapt and Geralt easily caught him. “My hideous monster, what the fuck took you so long?” He could see that Geralt was tired, but not broken, and he was sure he’d find a couple new scars on him. He breathed Geralt in and he smelled disgusting. More like death and horse shit than anything else.

“How dare you?” Ciri shouted. “He is majestic!”

Jaskier looked at her. She was beautiful, and close to broken. The poor lamb, but he could tell in an instant that if he offered sympathy she’d bite his hand off. Jaskier grinned at Geralt and leaned into him. The smell was even worse when his mouth brushed Geralt’s ear. “Those monster fucker genes really do win out, don’t they?” he whispered, and Geralt snorted. “Introduce us,” he demanded louder.

“Ciri, this is Jaskier my bard. Jaskier this is Ciri, my child surprise.” 

“Your bard? Your bard, you monster, I am more than your goddamn bard,” Jaskier pinched his ear. “According to the men here, you giving me your medallion was in fact a fucking marriage offer.”

Geralt nipped at his throat. He showed the wrist where the lute string was still tied. “I know,” he replied. “Get down, you are heavy.”

“No for your stupid large arms,” Jaskier replied but slid down. He immediately felt bereft, and took Geralt’s hand. He couldn’t actually hold Geralt’s hand easily it was so fucking huge, but he hooked his index finger around Geralt’s pinkie, a habit developed long ago. “Hello, Ciri, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Why are you mean to him?” she asked thoroughly confused.

“Because he likes it,” Jaskier replied. “I never lie to him. Only person I’ve never lied to.” Geralt realized that was true. “Tonight at supper I’ll sing a song about a monster who is secretly the hero of the tale. With terrifying yellow eyes, and beastly size, and fangs, and white hair. A character I completely made up and bares no resemblance to my personal and beloved monster.”

They walked into the keep and Ciri ran ahead, and Geralt dared to call his knees ugly. When Geralt set off, Jaskier knew he wanted a chase, but Geralt was headed to the bedrooms and no. “Both of you to below. You need a bath!” Jaskier shouted to them. “Hot water. Soap. So much soap.”

He saw Vesemir coming down. “Can you take care of Roach, while I take care of them?” Vesemir nodded and Jaskier herded his family down below. “Now, well ummm, how do we…” Jaskier didn’t laugh as Ciri and Geralt just both stripped down, completely uncaring about nudity after the few weeks of camping and then they were in the water making happy noises as dirt slid off them. Jaskier brought them over soap and he couldn’t quite be as casual with his own nudity so he stripped down to his small clothes and got in the water as well. “Princess, you’ll need some help with your hair. May I?” He saw her glance to Geralt who gave her a reassuring nod.

“Geralt said you wrote Toss a Coin?”

Jaskier filled his hands with soap, and began to smooth it through her hair. “I did.”

“He also said you’d sing it for me.”

Jaskier sang and realized that some of the hair needed to come off. He gestured to the wall and Geralt went and found a dagger, because there were weapons everywhere in the keep. “Trust me, please,” he told Ciri and he cut her hair to shoulder length. 

“You like fae,” Geralt said. “Makes your eyes look bizarrely huge.”

“Melitele save me,” Jaskier sighed and Ciri giggled. He turned her around ready to compliment the princess properly. “Oh it does give you giant bug eyes a bit.” He was startled when she jumped into his arms and hugged him tightly. “Geralt?”

“Apparently she doesn’t like it when people think they have to say the nice thing to her because she is a princess.” Geralt dunked under the water and then came up. “Me now?”

“Wash your own hair, I’m busy with our daughter,” Jaskier said. Because he knew that if he touched Geralt’s hair, it would make the time in the pool not fit for Ciri’s eyes at all. He glanced at Geralt and hoped it conveyed his meaning. He was relieved when there was a small nod. “Now then, tell me about your journey here.” He watched a shadow fall over Ciri’s eyes. “No, little one, I don’t mean the horrors you saw. I mean, the important things. Did Geralt make that weird murder chirp noise when he goes to hunt something?”

“He told me that was a bird!”

Jaskier snorted a bit and ignored the warning growl that Geralt had. “Did you get to ride Roach much?”

“All the time,” she said.

“Excuse me, I have to go drown your father now,” Jaskier said and started a huge water fight, and Ciri was soon giggling. Geralt pulled him close. “Thank you,” he whispered, and Jaskier smiled.

That night Jaskier managed to keep his hands to himself until Ciri had been asleep for an hour. Then he started to climb Geralt like a tree. Or he would have, but Geralt was holding him in the air away from himself. “What? Noooooo, I need my monster,” he whined. 

Then he heard the screams and Geralt threw him on the bed and ran across the hall. Jaskier quickly followed and the screams were shaking the room. “Fuck,” Jaskier whispered, because those weren’t human screams. He watched Geralt wrap his arms around Ciri and she woke and sobbed. Jaskier came next to her and smoothed her hair while Geralt held her safe. He sang a Cintran lullaby and she fell back asleep. “How many times a night Geralt?” 

“Three or four.” Geralt looked at him. “I’m sorry but -”

“No, she comes first,” Jaskier replied.

“I love you,” Geralt cupped his cheek. 

“My monster, I know you do,” Jaskier said.

It was fine, tomorrow afternoon they’d find a space.

But they didn’t because Geralt was all protective and worried, and Ciri was finally dealing with everything that happened to her. Jaskier understood completely. He did and he was helping them both as much as they let him. But he and Geralt had barely had a moment alone and he was going to scream. Parenthood sucked. And this was a few days, they would be doing it for years.

He really owed his parents an apology. 

Jaskier was giving Roach a brushing because it gave him something to do. There was a cough and he looked over. “Vesemir,” he greeted.

“After lunch, I am going to impose some order on the keep,” Vesemir said. “Because it is sorely needed.”

“Oh?”

“Indeed. For two hours after lunch, Ciri and I will attend to the library. It needs a good sorting out, and some organization and education will help her heal.”

“I cannot picture Geralt sorting books,” Jaskier said.

“He will not be attending that time. Because Geralt needs to breathe, to let her breathe. He brought her to safety and now he has to trust that safety. The west side of the keep, there is a door with a wolf carved into it, encircled with three rings. Ask him to show you that room.” Vesemir left and Jaskier looked at Roach.

“Well, now, that was unexpected.” Roach just made a Roach noise and he went back to brushing her.

At lunch Vesemir told Ciri about the library and how they would attend to it. Ciri lit up and Geralt was clearly going to insert himself.

“No, you are going to show me a room with a wolf door with circles on it,” Jaskier told him. Geralt froze and Lambert snorted a bit.

“Getting married I see,” Lambert said. “Well, I suppose that is a choice.”

Oh, it was that room. Now Jaskier really wanted to see it. But Geralt looked so torn, between protecting Ciri and having a thing he never could quite dream of. Jaskier looked at him. “Vesemir will keep Ciri safe.”

“I know, but -”

“Ugh, fine. I’ll help with the damn books too,” Lambert said. He glared at Ciri, “But you don’t talk to me.” She stuck her tongue out at him and he grunted back, clearly amused but not wanting to say so.

After lunch the other three headed towards the library and Jaskier had to wrap his arms around Geralt to hold him in place. “Geralt, is it true if you fuck me in that room, we’ll be witcher married? Because I want nothing more than to be witcher married to you.”

Jaskier laughed as he was thrown over Geralt’s shoulder and carried through the keep. He was gently put down in front of the door. “Well?” he asked and put his hand on the knob.

“We go in there, you have to mean it,” Geralt said. “This matters, Jaskier. This is forever.”

“My forever is a lot shorter than yours, my beloved monster.”

Jaskier’s eyes filled when Geralt shook his head. He placed his hand on Jaskier’s heart, it practically covered his whole chest. “This is forever,” Geralt repeated. “No matter how short or long that would be.”

Jaskier stretched up on his toes, and could reach Geralt’s jaw. “Open the fucking door then, Geralt.” He was picked up easily and they went into the room. Immediately lamps on the walls flared with light and Jaskier eagerly looked around. “Now that is how you build a room,” he said. There were tapestries on the wall rich fabrics, stitching of wolves walking together. The room was mostly bed, with shelves with jars and ropes and all sorts of things. It smelled like heaven. “So…can this room be used for more than just witcher magic wedding sex?”

“No,” Geralt replied.

Jaskier grinned at him. “You sure?”

“Vow renewal I suppose.”

“Excellent.” Jaskier jumped onto the bed and grinned. “Anything specific we need to do? Promises we have to make, certain positions? How does one wed a witcher?” He began to take of his clothes quickly, because when Geralt helped, well things got rather ripped and torn. Sometimes with teeth. He did actually quite like that, sometimes, but not today. He flopped back down on the bed and then Geralt was on top of him. Squishing him. He was a squashed bard.

Fuck it felt so good. Breathing was a bit of a struggle, but mostly it felt good. And really he didn’t need full lung capacity, not when Geralt was sinking his teeth into that one spot on Jaskier’s shoulder he could never quite leave be. “Fuck yes, you monster. Fucking claim me,” Jaskier growled. He winced. “Oh that might be a bit much for this room?”

“No, it is completely right. Jaskier we fuck in this room, I claim you. Every witcher, every sorceress will always smell me on you. Even if we are apart for weeks or months, you will always smell of me. You’ll be known as belonging to a monster.”

“Geralt, trust me, most of the fucking continent knows that, but by all means, let’s make it official.” Jaskier tugged his hair. “Geralt, do whatever the fuck you want to me. Do whatever it is needs to be done. Will anyone be able to smell your mine?” That would be sort of neat.

“You’d have to bite me hard enough to make me bleed, and I don’t think your -” Jaskier didn’t think he just bucked and Geralt immediately moved, clearly worried this had been too much. Jaskier pushed and Geralt let himself roll and when Jaskier was on top, he tore Geralt’s shirt open, pulled the leather trousers down and bit as hard as he could on Geralt’s hip. He and Geralt were often rough, but he had never set out like this. He pressed again and again, worrying the skin, which was leathery as hell, closer to animal hide but he did not stop until finally the taste of blood was in his mouth. He pulled back and looked down. “Fuck one fucking tooth got in?” He looked at Geralt. “Geralt?”

In a second he was pinned and he had never quite seen that look in Geralt’s eyes before. He had seen lust, love, affection, but never -. It took him a moment to recognize it as awe, the look people had in church when they felt a divine presence. And Geralt was looking at him like that. Jaskier flushed, grew hard. “Well? Am I to be the only one with blood on my lips?” And then Jaskier learned there was such a thing as lustful awe.

He cursed when Geralt’s teeth sank into his shoulder, because fangs on human tended to draw more blood, and then Geralt groaned, was rutting against him. It felt so good to have Geralt’s weight pressing him down, feeling like there was nothing in the world but his monster. It was quick and Geralt was coming all over him. Jaskier had to laugh. “Couldn’t get time away to have a wank hmm?”

“No, this is going to be a long fuck, Jaskier.”

“The horror, the horror,” Jaskier deadpanned. He whined when Geralt’s weight left him, but since the man was getting one of those pretty jars off the wall, he decided to whine a little less. Only it turned out to be salve for his shoulder. “No I want it to scar,” Jaskier tried to swat his hand away and there was that awe look again. “Well, just, you’ll want the medallion back and -”

“That is yours now,” Geralt said. “Forever.”

“Still want the scar,” Jaskier muttered.

“Fine, when do I ever deny you?”

“Never you hideous creature, and speaking of?” Jaskier rolled onto his stomach, pushed his ass up. “Care to fuck me raw?” Teeth sank into the meatiest part of his ass, so he guessed it was a yes. After that everything was a blur. The pleasure was overwhelming and he didn’t know if it was because they had been apart, or amplified by the room, but he knew there were fingers and a mouth and then Geralt’s cock. And it hurt because it had been a few weeks, and he had forgotten just how it felt when Geralt pressed in, but fuck there was no better pain. “Faster,” Jaskier growled.

Geralt just pressed him down, made him go at the pace that Geralt wanted. That worked too. When he monster was all the way in, it worked perfectly. “I love you,” Jaskier said.

“Ew, use real words.”

Jaskier laughed. “Well I do. But my abomination, you better fuck me so hard I cannot actually walk out of here.”

“That is our love.” Geralt started to move and Jaskier forgot to speak, so focused on the sensations. He loved this room. Wondered if he licked the walls that could count as being married to the room. 

It seemed like Geralt was fucking him stupid. He was okay with that.

He lost count after the third orgasm, and was mostly hanging on for dear life. By the end he hadn’t blacked out but it was close, and Geralt’s teeth sank into his shoulder again. He could then feel Geralt lapping at the blood a bit. “If I die you can eat my organs,” he offered weakly.

Geralt huffed against his skin. “Humans don’t have a lot of nutritional value.”

“So I’m dessert.”

“This is the first thing you say to me when we are wed?”

“You are ugly.”

“You smell like me.”

“You are perfect,” Jaskier smiled at him. “Also no law will recognize this as married, so in the summer we are also getting this done the human way as well. Ciri and I will wear flowers in our hair. You will wear only one sword.” Jaskier held Geralt as best as he could. “We should find Ciri?” God he wanted a nap.

“Nap first,” Geralt replied.

“Thank fuck, I cannot feel my legs.” Jaskier kissed Geralt’s nose that had been broken countless times. “My beloved monster.”

“My bard.”

“We’re married and fathers now. Fuck, are we respectable people now?” Jaskier shuddered in horror.

“While you fall asleep can I lick my come out of you?”

“Ahh yes, much better,” Jaskier said and stretched, fluffed the pillow and relaxed into the truly perfect bed. He fell asleep with Geralt moving down his body and woke up, all clean in their proper bed. Ciri and Geralt playing cards at the table in the corner. Jaskier smiled at them. “Hello, family.”

“Hi,” Ciri smiled at him. “Geralt said you’d show me how to cheat.”

Jaskier checked and he had on a shirt and trousers. He stood up and sat on Geralt’s lap. “An important lesson, so you can completely fleece Lambert.”

All three had the same bloodthirsty smile, those Jaskier’s mellowed as the weight of the wolf medallion settled around his neck and he saw the lute string around Geralt’s wrist. “Let’s begin,” Jaskier said, meaning their card game, and there family.


End file.
